How having babies prevents you making babies

Exhausted father Sam Jackson asks how adult human beings find the time
and motivation for a sex life while living through the ongoing upheaval of
parenting

Two children waiting for their parents to wake upPhoto: Purestock / Alamy

By Sam Jackson

8:18AM BST 07 Jul 2014

It’s 9 o’clock on a Friday night. Your evening has so far comprised of a drink in the pub after work, a meal out with your partner, and a stroll back home in the late-evening sun. You get home; your house is tidy, you curl up on the sofa together, and the night still feels young. This is because it’s still a few months before your first child is born.

Fast forward a year. Once again, it’s 9 o’clock on a Friday night. You left work bang-on 6pm because you were absolutely exhausted. Your baby isn’t sleeping at the moment, so you’ve had an average of five hours’ kip every night this week. Once you get home, the house is a mess, your partner’s even more shattered than you are, and there’s trodden-in mashed potato on the carpet. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and it strikes you that right now, you possess about as much sex appeal as Les Dawson.

The whole issue of parents and sex tends to provoke a reaction – especially when it comes to the thought of your own parents. But as a sleep-deprived dad of three, the main thing I wonder is how, as your family grows and your kids get bigger, any parents manage to get away with it without being caught (one of my best friends only realised in his twenties that his father’s regular trips upstairs to “dry Mum’s back” after she’d had a bath probably involved more than just a vigorous rubbing down with the towel).

The stereotypical dad is supposedly thinking about sex permanently, not getting enough of it, and wishing it could last for a little longer each time. Most new dads, meanwhile, are permanently thinking about sleep, not getting enough of it, and wishing it could last for about three times longer – preferably without being interrupted in the middle to wind the baby. As the madness of parenting descends on you, how on earth do you retain any sense of romance or intimacy?

I remember a mum friend of mine once saying that when her husband asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she’d replied "A chance to do a poo on my own." With two under-fives in tow, her birthday wish-list no longer involved flowers, chocolates and naughty underwear: she simply wanted a moment’s peace without a toddler standing barely two feet away, throwing a variety of bath toys at her.

Even if you’re not a particularly wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kind of man, it’s definitely worth chatting about sex post-children with your partner. If you can be clear about each other’s expectations now, you’ll minimise any stress of misunderstanding that might occur once the baby’s actually here. And it’s not only women who can have difficulty envisaging romance after childbirth. During our son’s arrival into the world, my wife had gone through a major operation to remove another person from her body. She’d begun breastfeeding and had her body pushed and pulled in all sorts of directions; something that occurred not just during labour but throughout the entire pregnancy, too. To me, the whole purpose of my wife’s body – her entire physicality, if you like – was now all about our tiny son. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with admitting that you view your wife’s breasts a little differently once you’ve repeatedly had to grab a muslin cloth and help her wipe some puked-up milk off her chest.

Just as most of us are usually quite good at putting the car in for a service or making a reluctant trip to the dentist every 12 months, so it’s sensible to give your relationship an annual MOT. Since having children, my wife and I have tried to find at least one weekend every year when we can focus on each other, without any children in tow. If you prioritise spending some quality time together, you’ll almost certainly find your sex life improves. Instead of being something you add to the mental to-do list at the end of an already frantic day, it’s the culmination of some time spent remembering exactly what it is that you love about each other.

A final tip, though: if one of your annual nights without the kids involves going camping together, and you then end up lending your tent to your father-in-law a few weeks later, I definitely recommend first removing the condom wrapper from the little pocket next to where you put your sleeping bag.